The Trouble with Shoulder Angels
by Sarah Jo
Summary: Set the summer after 5th year. Harry is still mourning Sirius' death when he and Ginny recieve some unexpected guests that turn their lives into chaos. But they might turn out to be just what he needs.
1. The Wishing Star

**Title:** The Trouble with Shoulder Angels  
**Author Name:** Sarah Jo  
**Date: **January 26, 2006

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKRowling, not me.

**Author's Note:** Somehow I ended up re-writing this chapter... once again. I'm sorry for anyone who was expecting an actual update (although I'm not arrogant enough to think anyone is even reading this). Anyway, sorry for my lack of updates and I hope you enjoy The Trouble with Shoulder Angels version 1,236,579.0

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Prologue  
The Wishing Star

During the summer after his fifth year, the summer following the mayhem at the ministry, Harry picked up a new hobby - running. He found that when he was running, truly running - putting all of his heart and soul into the task of moving forward, he didn't have to think anything beyond _'Just a little farther.'_ His ears were filled with the sound of his pounding feet, his eyes trained on a insignificant object in the distance - until the object was no longer in the distance, and he was forced to pick out a new one - and thoughts such as '_Keep going,' _ran like a mantra through his mind. There was no time to dwell on godfathers (or lack thereof), abusive relatives, or evil wizards that were after your blood. And that's why Harry liked it. 

There was, however, a downside to running... you eventually ran out of energy. Those were the moments the boy-who-lived dreaded - which he tried to put off for as long as possible. When the skies grew darker and he could no longer push himself without fear of collapsing. When he inevitably had to return to the Dursleys house to nourish and replenish himself. When he had finished his awkward meal with the Dursleys and returned to his room... alone. When he no longer had anything to concentrate on and keep his thoughts at bay.

More than anything the boy-who-lived dreaded the time right before sleep when he could no longer keep himself from thinking. Those were the times when he was filled with grief from his recent loss, the only person who had ever felt like family, and his previous ones, his real family. He felt guilt for being stupid enough to fall into Voldemort's trap and leading Sirius to his death, and regret for his inability to stop it. He was plagued by worries about whatever his arch-nemesis was planning for him next, and fear that his friends would be hurt in the crossfire.

It was in such a state Harry Potter could be found on the night of July 30th - the day before his birthday. Physically worn out from over-exerting himself, but mentally... restless. He had already given up trying to force himself to sleep and had positioned himself at his window in hopes of spotting Hedwig. His owl, who was his only companion during the miserable days of summer and was currently en route to the Burrow, could not be found in the night sky.

Desperate to ward off dangerous thoughts, he dropped his gaze to focus on Privet Drive itself. None of the identical and pristine houses that lined the street gave off any light. Everyone was asleep.

'_Must be late._' he thought idly, as if it hadn't occurred to him before, and checked the clock on his desk.

11:53. In seven minutes he would be turning sixteen. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. He had never had a reason to be excited about his birthday before, although admittedly, he had started receiving more (and better) birthday presents after he started Hogwarts, and this year would be no different. After all, this year there would be one present missing. And that made all the difference in the world.

Not liking the direction his thoughts were heading, he scanned the well-kept green lawns for any sign of movement. He was half-sure he would spot a dementor lurking in one of his neighbor's yards. His thoughts certainly resembled those procured by a dementor's presence. Dead depressing. But everything was still, and the street quiet.

As always when he completed this nightly ritual, he found his eyes drawn unerringly to the brightest star in the sky. Sirius. He didn't do it on purpose, he wasn't masochistic (at least_ he_ liked to think so), but every night without fail he found himself standing here feeling the pain of his godfather's death over again. He could prevent himself from thinking about it during the day, but as he found himself at his windowsill each night, his legs still aching from the day's run, the reality crashed down on him. His heart would bleed once again, as if the wound was still fresh.

This particular night was different. The pain was still there, but before it truly had a chance to get a grip on him, a slight movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention (he wasn't the youngest seeker in a century for nothing). Rather than on the ground, however, this movement was in the sky.

A shooting star.

He had never seen one before. Harry was suddenly overcome with the childish desire to make a wish. He closed his eyes and thought of the Mirror of Erised... what did he want? Family. Warmth. Happiness. Laughter. Hope. Love.

Green eyes opened and watched the star streak across the sky. He didn't allow himself to believe anything would come of his wish, and was slightly embarrassed he had given in to the desire in the first place (Thank Merlin no one was there to witness it!).

As the flash of light faded into the distance he was suddenly hit with exhaustion. Guessing the full weight of his strenuous new hobby combined with an endless string of insomniac nights had finally hit him, he stumbled tiredly to bed without complaint, hoping for once, his dreams would be nightmare-free.

* * *

At exactly midnight on the day of his birthday, Harry James Potter consulted a wishing star. Little did he know, that miles away in a  
crooked house outside the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, someone was making the exact same wish on the exact same star.

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**Author's Note:** So what'd you think? Personally, I prefer this version to the old one, but there's still room for improvement. Please (if anyone's even reading this) review so I know whether to continue or not. I love the feedback and feel free to correct any mistakes you see. Constructive criticism is welcome! 

Also, for those of you who are new readers (yeah right), I'd like to note that this story was inspired by Emperor's New Groove and it's _supposed_ to be a comedy... it just... hasn't gotten to that point yet.


	2. The Birthday

**  
Title:** The Trouble with Shoulder Angels  
**Author Name:** Sarah Jo  
**Date:** January 29, 2006

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Except for the plot. At least I hope nobody's done this before... I'd like to think I'm the tiniest bit original.

**Author's Note:** I've been really inspired to write this week. Considering I haven't written anything in over a year, I'd say it's a miracle. For the past four days, I've found myself at my computer typing not my three Human Geography essays (that are due _tomorrow_), but fanfiction. And Harry Potter fanfiction at that. Somehow I know exactly where I'm going this time around after cough two years of writer's block. Go figure.

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Chapter One  
The Birthday

Ginny Weasley awoke to find herself sprawled out... on the floor? Groggily, she recognized the chipped linoleum and realized she was in the kitchen.

Pushing herself up to her knees ,she raised one hand to blearily rub her eyes. With her mind still half bogged down by sleep, she tried to recall_ why the hell she was sleeping on the floor._ She clearly remembered sending Errol with Harry's last minute birthday present around midnight. Then she had spotted the wishing star... and made a wish.

At least she _hoped_ it was a wishing star and not your everyday, run-of-the-mill shooting star. She vaguely remembered cobbling together an essay on the differences between the two, but for the life of her could remember the specifics.

Making a mental note to write to Hermione (and pay more attention in Astronomy), she continued to retrace her actions from the previous night. She had made the wish and... and what?

She remembered a sudden exhaustion crashing down on her, as if she'd just completed a particularly difficult spell, and it had drained her of all her magical energy. The redhead frowned. Something that sapped you of your magical energy without you knowing _couldn't_ be a benevolent force. But nobody could get near the Burrow with all of its wards in place... could they?

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs put her out of her reverie, and not wanting to worry her family, she pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind. She picked herself up off the floor and dusting her clothes slightly, greeted her mother as she entered the kitchen to make breakfast.

"Morning, Mum."

"Ginny dear, what are you doing up so early?" Molly Weasley sounded both surprised and pleased.

Ginny was well-known, at least amongst her family, for sleeping-in during the summer. As it was only - a glance at the clock - 6:23, it was no surprise her mother wasn't expecting to see her in the world of the living.

"I fell asleep down here, Mum. Don't worry, I don't plan to make a habit out of it. You can expect me down at a respectable time tomorrow." Respectable meaning 2:30 in the afternoon. At the earliest.

"Ginny, I was hoping you had learned to wake up at a decent time. What are you going to do when you've graduated and have a _job_ over the summer?" Her mother responded as she began magicking various pots and pans out of the cabinets.

"Muum" she whined. "I _haven't _graduated, and I _don't _have a job over the summer. I still have three whole years left of Hogwarts. I'll worry about it when I get to it, alright?"

Her mother had been bothering her about this every summer since she started school, and while she was glad her mother worried about her, she was beginning to feel a prick of anxiety every time the subject was brought up. The constant reminders that she would eventually have to leave Hogwarts and change her entire way of living were beginning to put her on edge.

"But _I'm_ worried."

"Don't be." Deciding it was time for a well-place subject change, she pulled a large cake pan from the cabinet over the stove. "Uh... mum. It's Harry's birthday. Will you show me how to bake a cake?"

The older woman's eyes glistened in sympathy for the boy.

"Of course, dear. Those awful relatives of him probably aren't going to get him a thing."

Knowing her mum spoke the truth, she had no qualms what-so-ever about spending the day baking with her mother.

* * *

Harry's eyes didn't pop open until well into the afternoon, but when they did, and he was instantly awake, without having to go through the hazy half-asleep phase that waking up normally involved. That wasn't odd in itself, but the fact that he had gotten more than three straight hours of sleep (closer to fifteen actually) without nightmares was damn close to a miracle. 

Lacking even a hint of fatigue, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed his glasses onto his face. As the world came into focus, he couldn't help but notice the brightly-wrapped packages piled neatly at the foot of his bed.

A grin slowly made its way across his face at the unexpected surprise. Even after five years at Hogwarts, he was still unused to getting presents. Rather than immediately ripping in to them like a certain Weasley always did, he decided to savor the moment and open them slowly.

The first, which turned out to be from Hermione, was rather small and (of course) book-shaped. In her letter, she rambled on about the OWLs for several paragraphs ("I'm _sure _I failed Ancient Runes!") before squeezing in a happy birthday at the very end. Rather than being offended, he couldn't help but feel nostalgic. It was good to know that some things never changed.

And as predicted, she had gotten him a book. A potions book. An incredibly _thick_ potions book that looked like it would break your foot if you accidentally dropped it. Somehow he couldn't gather up any enthusiasm about reading it.

Setting it (carefully) aside, he turned to the next package and slit open the envelope taped messily to the side. Inside was a message written in Ron's untidy scrawl.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday, mate! I decided to pull a Hermione and get you something to read. You know, to keep your mind off... things._

_So how are you? The Muggles treating you alright? Hermione said she didn't think they would bother you after they got threatened at King's Cross. But then again, maybe they are _that stupid_. In any case, I'm sure Fred and George would be willing to send you some highly-dangerous and untested products to use on them. _

_Listen, I'm sorry, mate, but it doesn't look like you can come over this year. Mum's going to pick up your things in Diagon Alley, so don't worry about your school supplies. But really, I'd say you're the lucky one. _You_ aren't' stuck with Hermione all day. She's driving me nutters over those stupid tests. She honestly believes she's going to fail all of her OWLs._

_Anyway, don't feel like you're missing out on anything and give Dudley a good kick in the arse for me._

_- Ron_

_

* * *

_

Trying not to feel too disappointed that he was going to be stuck with the Dursleys for the rest of the summer, Harry focused on the present, which as Ron had said, was a book. It was pocket-sized and entitled _The Little Big of Aurors._ Deciding to take a closer look at the "little big" book later, he set it next to the potions book on his pillow.

The next two presents were a package of unrecognizable "pastries" and a homemade birthday cake, from Hagrid and Mrs. Weasley respectively. He figured he could easily trick Dudley into eating the pastries, but the cake was looking very appetizing at the moment. It was nearing 4:30 in the afternoon and he hadn't eaten since the previous day. Harry reluctantly set it aside and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

Considering he was expecting one _less_ present than usual, he was shocked (more like mildly surprised) to find he still had five left.

He grabbed the next one, which was the largest and obnoxiously wrapped in bright orange. He had a feel he knew who it was from and was a bit wary of opening it. He slowly began to peel off the paper and when it didn't explode in his face or turn him into a penguin, he deemed it safe. At least enough to inspect the contents.

The tv-sized box was full of various joke products and had a large Weasley Wizard Wheezes logo printed across the side. Some he recognized as Canary Creams, Extendable Ears, and Skiving Snackboxes. Others he had never seen before in his life. He wondered if they had been tested yet, or if the twins had decided to use him as a guinea pig. He wouldn't put it past them.

Harry could tell the letter was written by both of them because of the alternating handwriting, and it came with a list of each of the products and their effects.

* * *

_Happy Birthday, Harry!_

_**Yeah, Happy Birthday, mate!**_

_As I'm sure Ron has told you, thanks to your generous donation we were able to purchase a place in Diagon Alley. It even has enough space for us to move in above the store._

_**But don't tell Mum that. We apparate back home every morning so she doesn't know we've moved out.**_

_And we don't plan on telling her anytime soon. We don't want to provoke the tiger. Plus we like getting free food at home, so we don't mind popping in every morning. We've got Ginny covering for us just in case. Anyways, to the point! Today is the grand opening of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes._

_**In honor of your birthday of course (sniff) We've also sent along several of our products to test on the Muggles. **_

_I'm sure they won't mind._

_**Sorry you can't make it out here. There's always next year, right?**_

_Cheers,  
**Gred and **Forge  
Co-Mischief Makers in Chief  
**Weasley's Wizard Wheezes**_

_**

* * *

**_

The next gift was unexpected and left Harry feeling like he'd just seen a ghost. In specific, the ghost of someone he'd never thought he would see again. He didn't have trouble breathing and sweaty palms every time he saw Nearly Headless Nick. He shakily held the letter in his hand and read the painfully familiar handwriting.

* * *

_Harry,_

_If you're reading this letter, then something happened to me._

_I just thought you ought to know that I'm leaving you everything. Anything you can find in my vault at Gringott's, this bloody prison of a house, the house-elf. I know it's all useless trash (well... except the money), but it's all I have to give._

_And Harry…whatever happened to me, don't blame yourself. I've been dying to get out of this house for ages and if I spend much more time here I'll go crazy. That is assuming I'm not already insane because of the dementors._

_Make the most of this year Harry. You never know when things will get worse._

_-Sirius_

_

* * *

_

The only other item enclosed in the envelope was a key, which Harry left untouched. Somehow this letter made his godfather's death seem very... final. From time to time he still fantasized that Sirius was just on the other side of the veil - waiting for the right time to emerge. And then he would come back, grinning, and they would spend their time making fun of Snape or brooding about being stuck at Grimmauld Place.

Now it seemed as if even Sirius had given up on his life.

He shoved the letter back in the envelope and threw it across the room, where it hit the wall and came to rest near Hedwig's cage.

It took some effort to take his mind off the events at the ministry and refocus on the pile of presents still in front of him.

Opening up the letter that accompanied the smallest of the three, he was slightly surprised to discover it was from the youngest Weasley. Recalling the singing get-well card she had given him in second year, he read it with slight trepidation.

_

* * *

_

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday! If you were expecting a singing birthday card, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I hope you like what I got you though._

_Nothing much is going on here. Ron and Hermione are driving everyone crazy. All they've done is bicker since we got back (not that they usually don't). I think it might be their way of flirting._

_I wish that you could come over this year. But for purely selfish reasons. Maybe if you were around, they wouldn't argue half as much._

_Don't let the Muggles (or anything else) get you down._

_Love,  
Ginny  
PS. Beware of the cake Mum sent. _I_ made it, so I'm not sure how good it will taste._

* * *

Harry couldn't stop his lips from twitching upwards into a smile. Having never been close to Ginny he hadn't been sure what to expect from this letter, but he was pleasantly surprised. The gift turned out to be a magical watch. His last one had been broken during the second task of the TriWizard Tournament back in fourth year. 

The watch could easily pass for a Muggle one. It was plain and black with a screen that lit up at night so you could read the digital numbers. But as explained in a brief note that was taped to the back, it had charmed to be like the clock that hung in the Weasley's kitchen. When you pushed a small button on the side, the screen flicker and changed so that it looked like a pocket watch... but with three hands (one each for Hermione, Ron, and Ginny). Two of the hands were in the 12:00 position where a small label read "At Home." The other, Hermione's was pointing to "On Vacation." /p

Quite happy with the gift, he quickly fastened it to his wrist.

The remaining two packages were wrapped in identical plain brown paper. One was large and lumpy. The other was obviously another book.

Going for the larger one first, he unwrapped it to find a black cloak. It was made of a rich material he didn't know and had a gold clip that fastened at the throat. It looked expensive. Wondering who had spent so much on him (Somehow he didn't think it was Remus Lupin.) he placed it around his shoulders. Harry was immediately enveloped in warmth.

Take this time to remember, that it was the middle of summer, and Harry's room was already sweltering hot to begin with.

When he put on the cloak, it actually _lowered _the temperature, and he was left feeling pleasantly warm. It reminded him of drinking hot chocolate during the winter in front of the Gryffindor fireplace.

When he stood up to admire his attire in the mirror, a small scrap of paper fluttered to the ground. Hoping it would tell him who had sent him such an elegant cloak, he retrieved it from the mess on his floor. The first side was blank, so he turned it over.

It simply read _"For Warmth."_

Harry was completely mystified. He had absolutely _no idea _who would send him such a nice gift. He immediately ruled out Deatheaters because it hadn't yet tried to strangle him. And he'd already received gifts from each of his friends.

'_Maybe it's another one of my parents' possessions? Maybe Dumbledore was keeping it... like the invisibility cloak.' _

Even as he thought it, he didn't believe it. It felt (and smelled) too new to be one of his parents' old things.

Still feeling perplexed, he eyed the last remaining gift. Maybe they were from the same person, and they had only sent a letter with one of the presents?

He eagerly ripped the brown paper off the small package, and, as expected, a book fell into his lap. He had just enough time to read the title, _The Care and Keeping of Shoulder Angels, _before he felt the world begin to spin and everything went black.

**

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**Author's Note: **I hate begging for reviews and all... it's just that my self-confidence is almost non-existent, and when I _don't_ get reviews, it's really discouraging. So if you have a spare minute, and you're reading this, could you please leave something? I'd be forever grateful.

On another note, this chapter is both similar and different from the original version. I used mostly the same presents, but the entire thing _feels_ different to me. Plus the bit with Ginny at the beginning and the cloak are brand new. Hope you enjoyed it.


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